There is no holding back. Praise Him in the storm is all I know.
The slow unpacking of a broken soul. Where the beat of a heart doesn't indicate life, but a life undone. When hopelessness is no longer a thought or feeling, but a destination.
My identity no longer lingers in the shadows of a victim or mentally ill and broken. What Satan hoped to imprison for life was surrendered and set free years ago by the blood of Jesus Christ.
My mind is like the final seconds of a washing machine spin cycle. It's tumbling, and taking forever to come to a complete stop. I'm staring, waiting patiently for the lid to unlock and the buzzer to sound.
Christians don't always comprehend the road to robust mental health. Our detour isn't always a sign of slipping away, but can be a sign of rising up.
Thoughts of suicide remain part of my battle. They may be here to the end. I am at peace with that. Equipped for the fight, I no longer fear.
There are days I am short with my words. People struggle with impulses toward lust, food, or money. The Bible warns if we don't practice self-control, we will become slaves to the worldly things that control us.
I find solace knowing many out there diagnosed with a mental illness understand what I mean. You are fighting the same battles and waiting for your miracle. We cry out in unison for relief, maybe just a break from the constant stress.
Worry builds barriers against my ability to pray in faith and promotes a position of fear. I won't have it.
It is easy to trust him in the light and good times, but it requires courage to trust Him in the dark and unknown moments.